Once More With Feeling
by Alexabee
Summary: [Reposted] "Behind the school. On the slag heap. You name it." It was Gale's way of forgetting. Katniss thinks it might work for her, too. Takes place in District 2 during Mockingjay. Keywords: Galeniss, angst, sexual content, bittersweet, canon.


Seeing Peeta through the glass, restrained and raving about me being a mutt was the nail in the coffin. You'd think that maybe it would've been the moment when his hands closed around my neck, or when Plutarch tried to explain his hijacking. But up until I saw it with my own eyes, I was still holding out hope that it was all just some horrible mistake and the real Peeta was still retrievable; that the boy who held me through nightmares and arenas alike could still be rescued.

I know now that it's hopeless.

I ended up requesting to be sent to District Two. It's the only place where I'm still of use. But being left alone with my thoughts in the cold, crisp mountain air has only made the loss of Peeta and my own loneliness sting even more. So it's no wonder that as soon as 'The Brains' – a weapons intelligence team headed up by Beetee – arrived to help with Rebel efforts, I ended up back in Gale's arms.

Kissing him. Letting myself be kissed by him.

Trying to forget.

"Katniss," he says, pulling his lips away. I open my eyes. The brief heat that had been kindled inside me while his mouth was covering mine is suddenly replaced by confusion. "What's going on in your head?" he asks.

"I don't know," I whisper. Nothing? I don't want to think about this. If I stop to think about this it will feel wrong. So I close my eyes and lean in for another kiss, but his thumb on my chin stops me.

"Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count."

He breaks the moment by heaping my arms with kindling.

"How do you know?" I ask over top of the pile a moment later, embarrassed by his rebuff. "Have you kissed someone who's drunk?"

Gale shakes his head. "No. But it's not hard to imagine."

"So you've kissed other girls?" I wonder aloud. All of a sudden I'm curious. "Who? And where?"

Gale exhales heavily and continues to collect firewood. "Too many to remember. Behind the school. On the slag heap. You name it."

I wrack my brain, trying to recall a time when I've seen Gale in the company of any girl other than myself, but I can't. He must've had his first kiss at a young age. Maybe even before we met.

"When?" I finally ask, just as we start back towards camp. We walk in silence for so long that I'm not sure if he's even going to answer.

"After the mining accident," Gale finally replies, his voice gravelly. "You know. Just to feel something again."

* * *

Cally Hodges. Rowen Thompson. Ivy Bonning.

I can't remember the names of all the other girls that Gale had listed after I'd pressed him for more information as we sat by the campfire, but those three stand out. Cally and Ivy were in my grade at school. Rowen lived down the street. We never spoke, but we played together as kids.

They're all dead now, as far as I'm aware.

I roll over and bury my face in the pillow. My breath gathers in the fabric, making it hot and hard to breathe. It sort of reminds me of being choked, and I instantly picture Peeta's hands wrapped around my neck.

_She killed my friends. My family. Don't even go near her! She's a stinking mutt!_

Cally was from town. She would've been one of Peeta's neighbors.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but sleep never comes.

* * *

The next day, the Rebels relocate me from the village to a remote campsite a few miles away. I'm a basically a pariah – people eventually figure out that the Mockingjay is a dangerous guest to have, so I'm always being moved around. Gale isn't originally supposed to be a part of the new camp, but he arrives with his backpack and gear a few hours later anyways.

I don't ask why.

In the morning I'm required to re-shoot a few scenes for an upcoming propo, but I have the afternoon free to do whatever I want. Gale and I end up passing the time hunting together, and we take down a fair number of the geese that are migrating through the area. It almost feels like old times, in our own woods – almost, but not quite. Crouching side-by-side with him in the brush somehow isn't as comfortable as it was before, and I never fully lose myself in the hunt. It feels like I've swallowed a stone.

Later, as we're stripping the animals of their feathers, I finally just ask him the question that's been on my mind since he listed those names.

"Did you do more with any of those girls? The ones at the slag heap?"

Gale doesn't even pause or look up from the bird he's plucking.

"Some of them," he admits.

"And did it help?"

At this, he actually turns to face me.

"Some," he repeats.

* * *

When Gale really kisses, he does it with his whole body.

He's on top of me, cupping my face in his hands and grinding his hips slowly into mine, sucking on my lips and teasing my tongue with his own. This kiss is intense – nothing like the sparse, desperately lonely ones that we shared just a day ago. This one makes my head swim and my eyes water. I actually have to cling to his arms just to keep my bearings.

I can feel his erection straining against his pants, pressing into the warm spot between my legs. It doesn't feel good, exactly – just like pressure and friction. But then again, I'm not sure what it's supposed to feel like. I don't think I've ever felt an erection before. Or maybe I have, during those mornings when I woke up on the train with Peeta nestled against my back. But if I felt it then, I hadn't been paying attention.

I'm paying attention now.

Gale glances around furtively to make sure that we're really alone in this part of the forest before pushing my drab, District Thirteen regulation issue t-shirt up to my collarbone. Before I even have a moment to be self-conscious, his hand snakes around the back of my ribcage and pops open the clasp of my bra – also a regulation issue garment – and peels it away in one movement. He does it all so effortlessly that it makes me wonder if Gale has gotten to know his way around some girl's bra back in Thirteen, too. But the thought is wiped clear out of mind as soon as his lips close over my nipple.

A shock of breath escapes me.

His mouth feels incredible, unlike anything I've ever felt before. Soft, warm, wet. The firm suction of his lips, the flicker of his tongue. I quickly grab the back of his head, sink my fingers into his thick, dark hair and hold him against my chest. I like this feeling. A lot. More than I ever could've imagined.

He pulls his lips away from my breast a moment later, laving his tongue across its peak one final time before turning his attention to the other. I arch up towards the heat of his mouth, tilting my head back into the dirt and pine needles that cover the forest floor beneath us. His saliva has left my exposed nipple especially sensitive to the cool mountain breeze and I break out in gooseflesh all over, shivering with pleasure. I can feel my pulse throbbing in the very spot where Gale is grinding his hardened length against me. My body is starting to feel liquid and warm. Very warm.

"Katniss," he says, suddenly rising up. He sounds surprised. It's only then that I realize he's not moving against me at all – it's my own hips that are lifting, pressing upwards, searching for his body.

Apparently, Gale is doing a very good job of making me forget.

His lips come crashing down on mine once again, and our kiss is even more overwhelming than before. We shuck off our boots and make short work of losing our pants and underwear, kicking them into the dirt. Gale immediately spreads my legs and his rough, talented fingers go to work on my sensitive flesh. His hands are ridiculously skilled, knowing where and how to apply the perfect amount of pressure, but I can tell that he's holding back for my sake.

"Don't be gentle," I command him. "Do to me what you did to those other girls."

"Katniss," he says softly, hesitating.

I immediately sit up and reach for my pants.

"Hey. Stop," he insists, grabbing my elbow.

"Just fuck me!" I spit. "Fuck me!"

Gale gives me the strangest look, like something halfway between anger and remorse. "It's strange to hear you say 'fuck'," he mutters.

"You swear all the time."

"Maybe. But you don't."

I wrench my arm free from his grasp and stumble to my feet, collecting my clothing and stalking off into the trees.

"Katniss!" Gale calls out after me.

I don't look back.

* * *

Later that night, after it's dark, Gale shows up at my tent. I don't stop him from entering, but I do curl up on my side and turn my back towards him.

He doesn't say anything at first. He just crouches down and starts stroking my matted braid.

"You have pine needles in your hair," he comments, picking a few out.

"I know."

"I brought your boots back for you."

I finally turn to face him. I can just barely make out his silhouette in the dark.

"Thanks," I answer.

Then he leans in and kisses my forehead, just like he did while I was in the hospital after Peeta tried to strangle me. And just like that, my chest aches with a fresh stab of loneliness, and I know I don't want him to go.

I pull my blankets aside without saying a word, and Gale silently crawls in beside me.

Within minutes, he has my pants off and his head buried between my legs. His lips and tongue feel as good there as they did on my breasts and I quickly find myself in much the same position as before – eyes squeezed shut, head tilted back, clinging to handfuls of his hair as my hips keen upwards.

"I think I'm close," I whisper shakily when my damp skin starts to flush hot and cold in alternating waves. I tug on his hair and try to pull him away as my climax approaches – it feels so good that it almost hurts – but he only hooks his arms around my thighs and draws my body tighter up against his mouth, moaning softly into me as I shudder beneath him. He briefly slows down after I peak to let me catch my breath, but keeps going and doesn't stop until he's made me come with his tongue for a second time that night.

Afterwards, Gale kisses me on the lips and curls up against my back, wrapping his arms protectively around my waist.

"I'll never forgive them," is all he whispers into my ear.

I know he means the Capitol, but I don't know what for – our fathers' deaths? The Games? The bombings?

Then he kisses the faded bruises on my neck and I figure it out.

For Peeta.

All I can think as the tears spill down my cheeks is that Gale was right – I'm no longer numb. This did make me feel something.

It's just not the feeling I was expecting.

* * *

The next morning, before the sun comes up, I quietly slip out of Gale's arms and leave him sleeping in the tent, alone. Whatever it was that I felt that one time on the beach with Peeta, I didn't feel it last night.

I wander deep into the woods and find a cliff where I can watch the sunrise by myself.

When I do eventually make my way back to the camp, I find that Gale has packed up his gear and returned to the village without a word. Not one trace of his presence has been left behind.

Later that day, 'The Brains' have a meeting to discuss the best way to disable the only real Capitol stronghold left – a hollowed-out mountain here in District Two which houses their munitions, hovercraft and central intelligence.

Boggs and Beetee want to gain control of it.

Gale just wants to see it burn.


End file.
